First Impressions
by Silence-Speaker
Summary: The last thing Arthur expected to hear mere hours before Lady Helen's scheduled performance was that he had a son. An eight year old son named Merlin. Gen.
1. First Impressions

Disclaimer: I don't own BBC's Merlin. Anything recognisable comes from there.

This is a kidfic...seems to be a theme with me...

Anyway, in this fic time events in canon need to ignored with a prejudice. Seriously. The time scale for this story has been turned on its head. This part begins at the beginning of the first episode in the first series.

**Warning: Small amount of violence and mentions of execution. Also mentions of past underage sex - all consensual and barely referenced.**

This is the first part of a series, I won't be re-writing every individual episode but some will get mentioned or altered.

###

Merlin gasped as his head was pushed back, shoved into the folds of his mother's dress and held firmly so he could not see. He pushed away from the rough cloth that filled his mouth but the hand on his head made sure that he couldn't move away any further.

His mother was firm in the press of her hand but Merlin could feel the slight tremble in her fingers belaying her not-quite-calm state. She moved, still pressing Merlin against her, and so he stumbled after feeling the crush of the crowd around him.

When they were out of the square his mother finally released him, letting him free.

He looked up at her, at the woman he called mother, the woman who he bore no resemblance to, and frowned as she brushed his fringe from his face.

"Why did you turn me away?" He asked, confused. She smiled sadly.

"Because I didn't want you to see such a thing, not just yet." She answered quietly, cupping his face in her small roughened palm. He leaned into the caress because although he was a bit old for such things now (eight was quite old in his opinion), he wasn't quite at the age to dismiss his need for his mother.

"Why was that man up there? Why did the guards have him? And what did the King mean?" Merlin asked, curiosity welling up inside.

His mother looked at him steadily before kneeling on the cobblestones, which surely wasn't comfortable, and looked him in the eye.

"That man did...something against the law of Camelot and the King was using him as an example to stop others from doing the same thing. The guards were there to stop him running away and to protect the King and his people." She explained, not slowly but not so quickly that Merlin couldn't take in what she said.

"What law?" He asked, pressing further as he sensed something was being kept from him. She breathed in sharply and looked around to make sure no one was listening to them. Fortunately it seemed that a young boy and his mother was nothing interesting enough to watch.

She leaned in close, so her face was against his own and her warm breath fanned over his ear in a way that was almost ticklish. Merlin fought with the impulse to squirm away giggling. This was serious. Not a time for tickling, laughter and fun.

"He used magic, Merlin." He gasped. "Now remember what we agreed about keeping it a secret?" Merlin nodded, eyes wide, a small flicker of what could be called fear working down his spine. "That stands doubly in Camelot." Merlin nodded, his mouth was too dry to speak anyway.

His mother leaned away and got to her feet with a wince. Merlin swallowed. He tugged carefully at his mother's dress when another thought occurred to him.

"What did he do wrong?"

His mother pressed him against a brick wall and once again whispered so quietly that he had to strain to hear it.

"He used magic and that's enough to get him executed."

"But what did he do _wrong_?" Merlin pressed, an anxious frown crinkling his forehead.

"In some people's eyes what he did was wrong."

"But-"

"Merlin, shush now. This isn't to be discussed in a public place."

"But-"

"_Merlin_." It was a warning.

"Yes mother."

He forgot to frown when they walked through yet more streets, new places with different smells, sounds, sights, even a different feel than he had ever experienced before. The bustling area full of stone was so novel that thoughts of the earlier execution they had stumbled upon were soon wiped from his mind.

His mother led him, occasionally asking for direction from a guard here and there but Merlin was too lost in his surroundings to take real note of where they were headed.

It was only as his mother knocked politely on a door, then firmer when there was no response and then she even pushed it aside, stepping in carefully when there was still no answer that Merlin tuned back into reality.

The next few seconds were a blur to Merlin but he knew he'd broken the one proper rule his mother set him. He'd done magic in front of someone else. He didn't exactly regret it, the man had been falling from the top of some steps and he would have been hurt if Merlin hadn't done _something_ but he didn't like to disappoint her.

It didn't help that the man seemed both bewildered and almost angry at them once he got to his feet and off the pallet bed Merlin had moved to catch his fall.

Merlin didn't hide behind his mother but he did admit that one of his hands gripped onto her skirts tightly. He didn't like it when people shouted.

So he distracted himself from the adults conversation – now a lot quieter since the man had read a letter and gotten his shock out the way – by looking round. There were plenty of little bottles filled with funny coloured liquids, plenty of books (more than Merlin had ever seen before, even compared to the market stalls that sold them) and lots of things that Merlin didn't even know the name of or what they were for.

He drifted away from his mother and examined the lowest bookshelf. Glancing at the titles and slowly sounding out the words in his mind. Some of the titles he didn't understand, he didn't know what they meant (and that was a bit silly having a book called something that you didn't know about so couldn't guess what was inside) and another few were written with funny shapes instead of letters. Maybe they were pictures?

He pulled one out at random; one of the funny titled ones and flipped it open. Inside it was written in words, words Merlin could read and there were pictures every now and then.

He straightened up in his seat on the ground when he realised that the book was about creatures he'd never seen before, ones with funny shapes like the one with the body of a lion and the wings and face of an eagle. The writing wasn't that interesting but the information was enthralling enough for Merlin to brave through the text. Plus the pictures helped.

"-lin...Merlin...Merlin." His mother softly called, gently shaking his shoulder. Merlin blinked, looking up from where he was reading about unicorns.

"It's time for bed now, Merlin and you haven't yet greeted Gaius. Although I can see you're already well acquainted with one of his books." A wry smile twisted her lips and Merlin grinned, closing the book carefully and slotting it back into its place on the shelf.

"Merlin, this is my uncle Gaius, he's the court physician. Gaius this is Merlin." His mother said, leading them to the man who had shouted earlier and who was watching them curiously.

The fire flickered merrily in the hearth casting shadows across the man's warm-careful smile and it was only then that Merlin realised that it was dark outside. He covered a yawn with his hands.

"Hello." He greeted sleepily, one hand gripping his mother's skirts again but this time out of weariness rather than fear. They had travelled from Ealdor and it had taken _ages_.

"Hello, little man, I think you're quite ready for bed now. Hunith, you two can take the room just through there, it isn't much but it's more private."

"Thank you, Gaius. I know this was unexpected."

"Unexpected maybe, but a pleasant surprise nonetheless. Goodnight."

Merlin mumbled what he thought might have been something along the lines of a goodnight but it came out more as a garbled sigh as he yawned again into his mother's dress.

#

"Gaius, you can't be serious...what you're saying has the capacity to cause unrest in the-where is your proof? You cannot expect me to take the word of a peasant woman."

Gaius cleared his throat; he had not been anticipating telling the king. At best he would be believed and the boy accepted. At worst, well, he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"This, sire." Gaius handed over the stained letter and clean broach pin. A broach pin Gaius hadn't seen since Arthur was fifteen.

Uther read the letter, his face falling into a deeper crease the further he got. By the time he examined the pretty bejewelled pin the frown had spread even to his hairline. Gaius found it mildly impressive that Uther could pull off such a look of disapproval...but mainly he felt worry surge and boil in his veins.

"If this is a trick..."

"It is true as far as I know, Sire, and I can't deny the facts fit."

Uther was silent for a long, few, terrible minutes. Gaius made sure not to even make a minute shift even though his aged bones protested. He was sure the worry wasn't doing him any favours.

"Have you seen the boy?" Uther eventually asked.

"Yes, Sire." Gaius said, scanning his king carefully for any sign of his emotions. The flicker of curiosity was a saving grace Gaius was more than thankful for.

"Does he resemble Arthur?"

"Not all that much. Arthur was stronger as a child, broader, and the boy has black hair. However, for all the differences there is something of Arthur in his chin, lips and brow. Their eyes are the same shape if different shades of blue and they wear determination similarly." Gaius answered slowly. "Hunith told me he's a good lad, a little mischievous at times but clever and kind."

"Hunith?"

"My niece. The woman who has looked after the boy since he was a babe after his mother passed away in childbirth." Gaius explained.

Uther's mouth twisted.

"Why did she not bring the boy here earlier? Why wait eight years?"

"She did not know the identity of the boy's father, she took the mother in when she found her heavily pregnant near her village and tended to her until she birthed the boy. When she died Hunith took over as the lad's mother. From what Hunith has said I gather she made a promise to take the lad to me along with the letter and broach when the boy was near adulthood." Gaius answered slowly. He didn't want to get anyone in trouble but he would not lie. Not _yet_.

"Why did she come now? If she kept her promise for eight years, why come forward now?" Uther asked suspiciously.

"There was an incident," Gaius paused and Uther waved at him to get to the point. "Some select people were searching for the boy, they knew of his connection to Camelot. Hunith only just managed to hide the boy in time. She felt the incident was a little too close a shave and so thought the lad might be safer with his father." Gaius felt a small measure of guilt shift in his stomach.

He hadn't been entirely truthful, but the truth (as far as Hunith knew it, Merlin was a little tight lipped on the subject) would get the young lad killed. It wasn't even a lie, he had just...not told the whole story.

Uther remained in thought for another long time, enough for Gaius to wonder if perhaps he should have just torn up the letter and told Hunith to just live here with him with the lad as her son and no father in sight or distance.

No one would guess...the young boy wasn't a splitting image of Arthur.

"Will you be informing Prince Arthur, Sire?" Gaius finally asked when he felt the silence had gone on too long.

"Yes. It's his mistake. Send for him to come to my chambers immediately."

"Of course, Sire." Gaius bowed and made his way out of the room. Uther's voice stopped him as he got to the door.

"What is my bastard grandson's name?" Gaius halted, hand on the door knob and turned his head.

"Merlin."

#

Merlin wandered around, scampering out of people's way when they approached looking harried and busy and when they glared at him he moved out the way but glared back.

According to his mother some people didn't like children.

Merlin found that silly, wasn't everyone a child once? But he didn't care to get shoved or shouted at so he kept his distance.

That didn't stop him bumping into one or two people as they either moved too fast or he was too lost in the new sights but he was only yelled at once.

He avoided going to the square he had been to the day before but soon got lost. He knew he was near to the castle, and if he just asked a guard where the court physicians rooms where he would find his way back but the thrill of being somewhere new, of exploring without his mother's hand holding his own was too powerful to resist.

A patch of green caught his eye and Merlin was scampering off once more, following the lure of the unknown.

#

He rolled his eyes as his servant once again moved the target the _wrong_ way. Didn't he have a head on those shoulders? Enough to know _not_ to put targets in the sun?

He grimaced into the sun feeling the low throb at his temples of a headache that had been threatening all day. Well, ever since the council meeting and the chewing out he had suffered from his father.

Apparently even the onset of the celebrations was not enough to lighten Uther's mood and Arthur had been chastised like a child for making his desire not to attend the feast known.

Sir Kay egged him on as his servant persisted on being exasperating.

"This'll teach him." Arthur muttered out the side of his mouth to Kay.

Arthur carefully lined up the shot, he didn't want to actually hit the servant after all – stupidity wasn't enough reason to physically hurt someone – and let the small throwing knife fly across the short distance and into the target with a satisfying 'thunk'.

It was an easy target, impossible for someone with his training to miss really, but he still felt a bubble of pride well up. A small bubble, but it was his success.

"Hey! Hang on!" His servant protested, coming to a halt and holding the target up as though to shield himself from further attack.

"Don't stop!" Arthur called, fingers running over the next knife to check its balance.

"Here?"

'Thunk'

"I told you to keep moving." Arthur ordered, fingering another knife. The target was moving so slowly it still wasn't yet a challenge.

'Thunk'

"Come on! Run!"

His servant finally got the idea and cowering behind the wooden target he moved a bit faster, heading down the field.

"Do you want some moving target practice?" Arthur asked his Knights with a grin.

'Thunk'

The servant, Arthur never bothered asking for their names – they never stayed long – promptly dropped the target. It rolled to a gentle stop at some kid's feet.

The kid examined the wooden board for a second, looking at it carefully, his pale face set in concentration.

Great. Another simpleton.

"I think you've had enough fun, my friend." The boy said firmly, glancing from the target to his servant and then to Arthur. There was something unusual about the boys stare, unnerving. Arthur brushed aside that thought and moved closer, mentally scoffing at the child's use of words.

"Do I know you?" Arthur asked with a raised eyebrow. If some child thought he could tell him what to do, well he had another thing coming.

"Er..." The boy looked puzzled before his face cleared in dawning realisation. "I'm Merlin." The boy greeted holding out his hand. Arthur almost smirked; this was a little too easy. But then again, the kid was young.

"So I don't know you."

"...no."

"Yet you called me 'friend'."

"My mistake." The boy muttered, glancing at the ground sullenly.

"Yes, I think so."

"Yeah, I'd never have a friend who was such an ass." The boy met his astounded gaze before turning on his heel and leaving.

"Or I one who could be so stupid." The retort was out of Arthur's mouth before he knew it. Something inside him sank slightly, this was a _child_. He was trading verbal barbs with a _child_. The boy stopped walking and stiffened, his small shoulders setting.

The boy's face was paler now and his eyes flickered over Arthur and the Knights who had come up behind him without his notice.

But he didn't back down.

His little chin squared, blue eyes darkening like storm clouds gathering.

Arthur turned round to glare at the Knights. They shouldn't have crept up behind him, it made it seem like he was going to set them on a kid. A stupid notion but what else was the child going to think?

"Just go home to your mummy." One of the Knights jeered. Arthur glared again; the kid had been leaving until he opened his mouth.

"Just because your mother is the only one who could love that face-" The boy never got to finish as Sir Kay, of course it was Kay – the man was good for a laugh but always picking fights – stepped forward and cuffed the lad across the face with a stinging blow.

The boy's head snapped to the side, lip splitting and cheek flushing red from the hit. Arthur had no doubt that by tomorrow there would be a darkening bruise covering near half the boys face. Arthur reached forwards and grabbed a hold of Kay's fist, preventing him from doing anything further should the boy decide to unleash any more smart comments.

"Enough." He said quietly but firmly. He couldn't have word going round that the Knights went round beating up children.

Sir Kay backed down but it was with the same sullen glower the young boy had sported.

"You alright, kid?" A Knight who had been standing towards the edge asked. Arthur hadn't noticed his approach. Sir Leon was one of his best Knights and one of the quietest. Good for hunting or other stealthy tasks.

The boy spat out a small mouthful of blood. He'd bitten his tongue then.

"No teeth knocked loose." He muttered, in the same tone someone would use when saying they were fine. Some part of Arthur admired the kid's grit.

"Right, back to training! Three laps in full armour then I want to see how rusty your sword skills are." Arthur ordered, raising his voice and ignoring the groans before heading to the tables to collect his helmet and telling his servant to get his shield.

The next time he looked to the bottom of the training field there was no sign of the boy. He hadn't expected there to be and he was more preoccupied with why his father had summoned him.

Surely he couldn't _still_ be annoyed at Arthur's reluctance to go to the feast!

#

"Arthur, do you recognise this?" Uther asked pointing to the broach on the table.

Gaius watched as Arthur's face set, his shoulders straightened and the slow blink the only signs of his surprise.

"...Yes." Arthur admitted slowly, evidently wondering where all this was leading.

"Where do you remember it from?" Uther pushed.

"I gave it to someone as a gift once." Arthur said, eyes locked on the uninteresting wall behind Uther's shoulder.

"Yes." Uther's lip curled. "Lady Ambrosius, wasn't it?"

Arthur blinked, eyes shooting to his father in shock. After a long silence he seemed to realise some response was merited.

"Yes, Sire."

"You had...relations with this woman?"

A light dusting of pink tinged the Prince's ears.

"...Yes. Why is this re-"

Gaius almost felt sorry for the man who was little more than a boy really.

"Read this. I believe it relates to you." Uther shoved the letter to his son. Gaius was almost sure that for a second amusement lit up the dark depths of the Kings eyes.

Gaius interlocked his fingers on the table.

"I care not for your dalliances – so long as they don't interfere with state, your duties or offend an ally – but siring bastards was something I _ordered_ you not to do." Uther said sternly. Gaius could see he wasn't actually angry, a little cross but not truly angry, that boded well for the boy and Hunith. And Arthur.

"Is this-do I have-I have a child?"Arthur managed to force out his throat. Uther rolled his eyes.

"However, at least we know you can sire children, should he prove to be yours-"

"He? He's a he?" Arthur interrupted sounding a little dazed. In fact the young man looked like he'd been struck over the head with a hammer.

"-_should_ he prove to be yours then there's the messy business of inheritance, he can't throw the kingdom into upheaval. Naturally he can't be in line for the throne which means you'll have to satisfy him and other nobles with something else when he gets older. There is no need to breed dissent in the household; he'll be treated royally _if_ he is your son."

Gaius blinked, that was more than he had expected. The points Uther made were valid and saying the lad would be a part of the royal household was something Gaius had not counted on.

He had thought, at most, that Merlin would be put into his care and vaguely acknowledged as related to the Pendragons.

Gaius was hesitant whether this was a good thing or not. The boy needed a stable footing now in life if he was to survive court later. Especially as the bastard of a Prince and one day King.

Plus with his gift of magic it would be far safer for the lad to live with him.

"Where-How old-is he here? In Camelot? Did Robin bring him?" Arthur asked obviously not taking in a word Uther was saying. Gaius felt his lips twitch traitorously. The Prince still looked poleaxed.

"_Lady Ambrosius_ died, years ago. But yes, her son is here in Camelot." Gaius put in before the King and Prince could begin to bicker.

"Can I see him? Does he look like me? Or Robin?" Impatience was evident in every word Arthur uttered and it was clearly costing the young man to stay standing and not rush out to personally seek out the child he did not know he had until then.

"We don't yet know if he is truly your son. A letter is not proof enough. Nor a trinket."

Uther's words didn't seem to dampen the curiosity that filled Arthur's face.

"Who has he been living with, if Robin died?" Arthur asked, a slight frown puckering his face.

Gaius cleared his throat. "With my niece, Hunith."

"When will they arrive, Gaius, I don't have all day." Uther asked impatiently as he read through one of the council reports left over from this morning.

"He decided to do some exploring and Hunith had to go find him. They'll be along shortly, Sire."

"Hmpf. A handful, is he?" Uther asked, not too irritably.

"Apparently." Gaius murmured. He could hardly talk about the boy's character after only having spoken to him once. And Hunith's words could be biased; she loved the boy with all her heart.

A knock came from the door.

Gaius sighed quietly. The King had ordered them not to be disturbed, so it was most likely that the very two they were waiting on had arrived.

#

Merlin grimaced, resisting the urge to rub his sore cheek. It would swell, he knew and hurt. Plus it would soon be obvious what had happened when the bruise began to show, he wouldn't be able to keep it hidden from his mother.

It wasn't the hardest he'd ever been hit but he did wish the man in odd armour hadn't been wearing a ring on his finger. Although he was glad he hadn't been wearing that glove-like-thing with metal on. That would have _really_ hurt.

He wandered through the streets, still close to the castle, not sure of his direction just knowing he didn't want to return to Gaius' quarters just yet. The things in the rooms were interesting but he'd never liked being cooped up.

Mother would be unhappy though, she'd told him not to stray far and to be back before noon.

He decided since he was already late it didn't matter if he was even later.

Merlin grinned when he saw the statues up above and ran over, tracing the stone engravings with first his eyes and then his fingers. It was a dog! He growled at it playfully almost hearing the answering growl back.

He petted it gently on the head and scampered off. Perhaps now it was a good time to return, mother wouldn't be too cross he hoped.

That decided he turned round and in his haste managed to trip over his own feet and slam down onto the ground.

Shoots of pain ran up his arms from where he'd stuck out his hands to break his fall and his knees throbbed.

"Ow."

"Ouch, that looked like it hurt. Are you alright?" A voice asked kindly. Merlin looked up to see a pretty lady in a lavender dress, a basket of laundry she put on the ground as she crouched in front of him.

"I'm fine Miss." Merlin answered then remembered his manners. "Thank you."

She helped him to his feet and brushed off his trousers like his mother did.

"I'm Guinevere, but most people call me Gwen. I'm the Lady Morgana's maid." The pretty woman introduced with an even prettier smile.

"I'm Merlin, although most people just call me Idiot." Merlin grinned, shaking her hand. Suddenly he found himself missing Will, he always called Merlin an idiot or a rascal, but he wouldn't come with them to Camelot, he stayed in Ealdor.

"Nice to meet you Merlin-who-is-not-an-idiot." Gwen smiled. "So, should you be walking around here by yourself or are you supposed to be with your mother? Or father? Or guardian?"

Merlin widened his eyes and put on his best innocent expression. It can't have been very innocent because Gwen snorted in amusement and just looked at him.

"I'm supposed to be with mother." He eventually admitted, he didn't want to lie to Gwen; she'd been nice to him.

"And where is your mother?" Gwen asked.

"In Gaius' rooms." Merlin answered.

"Ah, well it so happens that I know Gaius so I can take you back there now." Gwen said, reaching down and taking his hand.

"You know Gaius too? Mother says he's her uncle." It didn't occur to Merlin's childish logic that seeing a man once didn't necessarily mean you _knew_ them. "But Miss Gwen, what about your basket?" Merlin asked when she led him down the first step.

A bell rang out signalling it was one hour after noon. Gwen jumped and glanced back to the basket then to the castle worriedly.

"Ah, I'm late. Right, Merlin will you be a good boy and come with me for a few minutes and then I'll take you to your mother?" Gwen asked, glancing at the basket again. It didn't occur to Merlin not to agree.

Gwen had to let go of his hand to carry the basket so Merlin just scampered close to her skirts, following her through the twists and turns of the castle. Merlin's eyes were round with wonder.

The castle was huge! And there were so many people bustling about! And was that a tapestry? He'd never seen one so big or ornate!

He ran his hands along the wall as they passed, Gwen continually looking over her shoulder to make sure he kept up, the stone was cool to touch and slightly roughened. Merlin preferred petting the stone dog.

They eventually got so far into the castle that they left all the other people behind hurrying about apart from more guards.

Gwen knocked on a set of doors, carefully balancing the basket, opening the door and walking in when another woman's voice said to.

"Ah, Gwen, you should come over here and see what Lord Guthrie has sent me, it's hilarious- oh, hello and you are?" The woman dressed in green asked when she spotted Merlin standing beside Gwen's skirts.

"Merlin, Miss." Merlin answered, feeling the soothing roughness of Gwen's skirt brush his hand.

He didn't miss the questioning glance the woman with long dark hair sent Gwen.

"I found this one having a close encounter with the ground; I said I'd take him to his mother. If that's alright, my Lady."

"Its fine, Gwen. Is that how you hurt your face?" She directed this question to Merlin. Merlin shook his head in the negative.

"A Knight took a disliking to him." Gwen murmured with distaste. Merlin was sure he wasn't supposed to have heard that.

"Those brutes. Well, it was nice to meet you Merlin but I'm sure your mother is worried about you." The lady turned, giving her attention to a flickering candle, a frown crossing her face.


	2. Well, that could have gone better

Disclaimer.

So, Arthur meets his son for the first (second) time. Things do not go as planned. If there even was a plan.

Also, chapters will be sporadic at best. I make no apologies (lies).

###

Arthur clenched his fists as the knock came from the door. He had a son. He couldn't quite wrap his head around that yet.

_(He had a son.)_

What was he like? Was he-did he-what did he look like?

His skin felt stretched over his bones, like it was suddenly too tight. His pulse thrummed in his veins and he had to actually fight to keep his composure. He wasn't sure what would happen if he lost it.

He wouldn't break down and cry, or laugh hysterically like he'd at times seen his Knights do after a scuffle with bandits or anything that involved bloodshed. New recruits were usually little better than wilting flowers.

(He had a _son_.)

The door opened slowly, why was it moving so slowly? A woman, a peasant woman in a homespun dress that was obviously worn stepped into the room as his father bid and dropped into a low curtsy, bowing her head in deference.

Arthur had seen actual royalty with less regal grace than the woman in front of him. As she pulled herself straight from the curtsy Arthur noted little else of import. She was average. Almost disappointingly so, had his son grown up with _her_? Brown hair, brown eyes, brown dress...drab.

Arthur resisted the urge to snap at the woman to move, to shift aside so he could get a good look at the child who stood behind her, the only evidence of his presence the small hand the woman held in her own.

"Your Grace," The woman murmured, her voice wasn't lilting like he imagined his mother's to be, or sharply enthralling like Morgana's. It wasn't low or high...it was non-confrontational.

What was his son's voice like? Would it be like his when he grew? Or more like his father's? Or perhaps he would take after his mother's side of the family. A family Arthur knew nothing of.

"Show us the boy." Uther demanded, taking a sip of rich red wine from his goblet. The woman murmured something, too low for Arthur to catch and gently pulled her hand forward along with a smaller one not her own and a pale arm.

Arthur leaned forward where he stood, eyes fixed on the appendage, greedily drinking in all the details as they were slowly revealed.

The boy-

(_He_ had a _son_.)

-stepped to the side, into view, with evident reluctance. His face set stony and dark brows furrowed over bright blue eyes, such a piercing shade that Arthur doubted had ever set foot on the earth before. In the sky maybe, but surely not on earth, not a colour that vibrant.

He drank in the features and couldn't prevent a shocked inhale as he recognised the child. Recognised the bruise just beginning to darken the lads pale cheek, the split lip a marring the picture of childish innocence.

Uther leaned forward in his seat.

Under the intense scrutiny from the two royals the boy squared his small chin, straightened his already tense shoulders and stared just as piercingly back.

Arthur had the brief, completely illogical, desire to laugh.

"Come here." His father ordered, beckoning as one would to a dog. The boy glanced to the woman and took a single step forwards. The woman gently nudged him closer to the King.

"I wish to see your face, come here." Uther demanded again, this time with more impatience. The child's gaze flickered over Gaius, washing over Arthur with an all too short amount of time that left him near thrumming with the need to say something, to acknowledge _his_ _child_ in some way.

A name came to him instead.

"Merlin!?"

Of all things it was one of the last he wanted to voice. The boy – Merlin – jerked a little but didn't glance over, too chained by the King's stare. Uther, however, was not so transfixed.

"You know the boy?"

Arthur swallowed. "I had a chance encounter earlier this day." He answered but his father didn't seem to care much.

The King's hand shot out and Merlin wasn't quite quick enough in his movements to jerk out the way. Not that he didn't try.

"Stop squirming. I only want to look at you." Uther demanded, coolly but not unkindly. Merlin stopped trying to escape and only winced as fingers brushed against the blossoming bruise while Uther gripped his chin in one hand turning the boy's head this way and that, looking at his face from different angles.

Merlin wasn't panicking, not that Arthur could see anyway, but there was something trapped about his gaze, something about the way his eyes darted, about the white knuckled grip the child had on his own tunic...something about the whole picture brought to mind a rabbit in a trap, knowing it was caught but still trying to escape.

Arthur wasn't given to metaphors and the comparison unsettled him.

He watched the bob of the child's throat as he swallowed.

Eventually his father let go, examining Merlin with less intensity and more thoughtfulness as he leaned back in his chair and took another sip from his goblet.

Merlin shifted on his feet but didn't dare take a step backwards.

"You said you saw Arthur, Gaius. I disagree. I see Ygraine."

Arthur blinked, surprised and a little confused at what his father had said. Merlin shifted again. Gaius made a small sound that might have been agreement.

Where did his mother come into this?

"How old are you?" Uther asked, this time directing his question to the child standing in front of him like he'd been caught in the middle of some wrong doing.

"Eight." The boy answered promptly, with all the pride of a child believing themselves to be all grown up. "Sire." He attached on the end after a small prompt from the peasant woman.

"And do you know your letters? Numbers?"

Arthur resisted the urge to but in. If Merlin had been living as a peasant then there was little to no hope he could even recite the alphabet or count past twenty. The child frowned.

"I can read and write if that's what you're asking. Sire." The sire was again tagged on as an afterthought. Arthur was rather surprised his father let it go.

The child was rather cheeky.

No doubt the boy was bluffing. He was eight, Arthur had hardly been fluent in reading when he was that age and his writing was best not thought about. Probably because he had despised his lessons and tutors, much preferring to be out under the sun doing something active.

"Here. Read this aloud." Uther shoved a piece of parchment left over from the council meeting at the boy who nearly dropped it, jumping at the sudden movement.

"To det-er-mine the pre-cise stone to cut for the new repairs down in the lower town, Lord Belgraft will seek council on tomorrows morn from the stone masons before con-ferr-ing the matter further with the council the next time it con-ve-nes. The works shall commence at-"

"Enough." Uther plucked the parchment from unresisting fingers. The child barely flinched this time at the King's abrupt movement.

Arthur was surprised. For a child of ten he would have said they were bright. A boy of eight, a boy from peasant background (no matter his origins)...well, he was surprised. The reading was clear, even if the boy stumbled uncertainly over some of the larger more complex words he sounded them out coherently.

"If I wanted three hundred blocks of stone and each block cost two gold coins how many coins would I need?"

"Six hundred gold coins." Merlin answered promptly, less than ten seconds after Arthur worked out the answer too.

"Who taught him?" This question was not directed at Merlin but at the peasant woman and Gaius.

"I did, Your Grace." The peasant woman answered quietly.

"Any other topics?"

"Just a little history, Sire."

"Hmmm. Very well. Gaius, organise some tutors for the boy, the full works. And get a tailor too. He can have a set of rooms in the East Wing."

Arthur blinked at his father's commands, a little thrown. His rooms were in the West Wing of the castle, his father had some in the North Wing and Morgana had the South.

"You. What do you want in return for your services these past eight years?" Uther asked the peasant woman, directly. "Speak up, name your reward." The King prompted when she didn't open her mouth fast enough.

"Nothing, Sire, it's been a joy having Merlin." The woman said slowly. Merlin looked confused but edged just a bit closer to the woman.

Uther's eyes narrowed but he nodded.

"As you wish." The King stated, getting to his feet and sweeping out the room.

Arthur couldn't miss the slight relaxation of tense muscles from the child once the King was out of sight.

"Would you like to meet the boy?" Gaius whispered. Arthur nearly jumped; it was testament to how much the news that he had a son had thrown him, that Gaius could walk over to him unnoticed.

Arthur nodded slowly, not entirely sure he did now the moment came. He straightened his shoulders, he was a Knight of Camelot, Prince in fact, he was not too scared to speak to his own son.

"Are you planning on claiming him?" Gaius pressed, hesitation on his aged face. That stumped Arthur, was he going to acknowledge the boy as his own?

He nodded once more. Technically the decision had already been made for him, the truth would circulate the court rumours in no time at all, especially since the King had ordered tutors for the child and a set of rooms fit for a noble.

Gaius sighed and stepped towards Merlin who was standing beside the peasant woman talking quietly. The court physician murmured something in the woman's ear then took a seat at the table, rubbing his face wearily.

The brown haired woman knelt to the ground in front of the boy, heedless of her dress and looked at the child solemnly.

"Merlin, you remember that conversation we had a few days ago?" She prompted softly.

"The one about 'Will not being right about everything'?" The child asked doubtfully, after a frown of thought. A smile curved the woman's lips but the amusement was dampened with seriousness.

"No, dear, the one about your parentage."

Merlin's face cleared. He nodded.

"Well, we came to Camelot because your father lives here." She continued.

Arthur blinked; he'd thought the boy knew why they had gathered. Surely at least Gaius would have told him?

"Really?" Was that wariness in the boys voice or eagerness. Arthur couldn't tell.

"That's what this meeting was about."

"Wait-it's not the King is it?" Merlin's face was a picture of horror; he looked practically ready to flee if anyone gave even a twitch.

Arthur felt a little indignant on his father's behalf, what was wrong with being the son of Uther Pendragon? There was no need for the kid to look so terrified by the prospect. Awed maybe, not _scared_.

"No," Merlin's face relaxed in relief. "It's his son," There was that look of horror again. "Prince Arthur." The woman finished.

Arthur stepped forward; Merlin jumped at the movement, staring up at him, those thin shoulders tense once more.

Arthur cleared his throat.

"I'll show you to your rooms." Arthur frowned. That wasn't what he'd meant to say at all.

#

The walk to the East Wing was uncomfortable. Silent. Awkward.

Arthur had no idea what to say, or even if he should breach the hushed atmosphere broken only by their footsteps on the stone.

Merlin spent the walk beside the peasant woman, shooting him confused looks when he wasn't staring at the walls.

Gaius had excused himself to return to his duties; apparently he had to deliver some medications.

Once the woman seemed to realise that he wasn't going to talk (what on earth could he say?) she tried to draw them into conversation.

After a couple of failed attempts she seemed to give it up as a bad job.

"Merlin, where did you get that bruise from? You didn't trip over again, did you?" The woman asked, her eyes flickering from the child to Arthur. Okay, maybe she hadn't given up yet.

His stomach sank slightly and he quickened his step unnoticeably.

Arthur glanced at the bruise, the dark mark seemed to dominate the small face, the split lip an adornment to draw the eye.

"Yes." The boy answered without a bat of an eyelash, holding up his grazed palms as proof. Arthur stumbled slightly over his own feet. Merlin didn't even look at him.

A barefaced lie told with such innocence.

Arthur was used to lies, the courtly kind, the one nobles insisted on displaying, the (rare) nice ones – _doesn't that hat look_ _nice_ (it didn't) – but he detested the ruse and he was utterly rubbish at fabrication. According to Morgana. (He didn't like to agree with her but facts seemed to be in her favour.)

That was _his_ _son_. Should he feel like scolding the lad or proud at the ability?

"You should remember to look before you leap." The woman chastised gently, the fondness in her tone belying the amount of times she must have repeated the same thing.

Arthur made his excuses when they reached the set of rooms, leaving the peasant woman and _his son_ to deal with the flurry of servants dusting, airing and generally making the room fit for a prince.

He didn't lie; he did have some important duties to get back to.

But...

He felt eyes on his back until he turned the corner.

#

"Ah, Arthur." His father greeted as he entered the relatively small room a sheaf of reports in his arms.

"Father." Arthur returned with respectful tilt of the head. He placed the parchment on the small space left on the large desk that Uther motioned towards.

"Your son..." Uther trailed off looking mildly discomfited. "What are your...thoughts on him?"

Arthur blinked. Was his father...checking on his mental state?

"Small." Arthur answered promptly. Uther looked torn between laughter and despair. "Quiet, I suppose. Cheeky." He murmured, remembering just a few hours earlier when the child attempted to scold him over his behaviour.

"And the peasant woman?" Uther asked, glancing at the reports.

"What?"

"What do you think of her? Considering she has had the last eight years to brainwash the boy."

"Bland. She seems to hold sway over the child." Arthur answered uncertainly, caught in the loop. Was there really some sinister design in bringing his son to him? He recalled the times Merlin had looked towards the brown haired woman whenever he was uncertain.

"Is is a good idea to let her see him? Surely better companions could be found?" Arthur asked.

"Yes, but best not to destabilise the child so soon. He's only just arrived after all. Let him keep a bit of security for a short while longer. He won't need it soon and he'll easily discard her."

"Yes, father."

"Keep an eye on her."

And he was dismissed.

#

He glanced at the boy dressed in some clothes of Arthur's as a child that had been hastily fitted to Merlin's slenderer frame. Were children supposed to be that small? Had he ever looked that breakable? Surely not, he'd been sturdier of build, solid. Merlin looked like a strong breeze would whisk him away.

His hand clenched around the silver fork and he had to focus on placing it back down onto the table and relax his fingers enough to let go.

His gaze went back to the child without his consent. Did all children look so frail?

The boy grinned, darting across the hall to speak with Morgana's maidservant.

The candlelight flickered oddly over the child's elfin face, pitch black hair contrasting with the pale skin.

Skin too fine for a commoner, Uther had said.

It wasn't long before Merlin made his way back to his seat, close enough to acknowledge his importance but not close enough to the King and Prince for them to talk without shouting.

Arthur cursed that fact all the while recognising he would have no idea what to say if they could talk.

"He's sweet. Nothing like _you_, thank goodness." Morgana said, a teasing smile on her painted lips.

His lips pursed. When had Morgana spent enough time with the child to start forming opinions on his nature? Actually, scratch that, when had she been told that Merlin was his son?

"The poor boy." She murmured, almost to herself.

"Poor? He's anything but poor now he's come to Camelot. Father's been more generous than I expected." Arthur protested. Morgana shot him a glare that could peel the flesh off a living man. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, he was used to her.

"Yes, he's been uprooted from his previous lifestyle, brought to a foreign place under the scrutiny of a harsh king," Her lip curled and Arthur wondered what his father had done to displease her this time. "Brought in front of a man who claims to be his father yet doesn't even speak to him, a man whose Knights _physically_ _accosted_ him. He's been brought into the very vipers nest of court. A royal bastard, the highest irony. I shan't be surprised if he runs off into the night one day." Morgana said in hushed tones, the venom in her voice no less potent for all that she was careful to let only he hear her.

Arthur blinked, leaning back in his chair and mulling over her words.

"It's hardly that bad. The food at least is sure to be better." He returned lightly. Maybe a better diet would make Merlin seem less...flimsy.

Morgana huffed at his unconcern, probably angrier he dismissed her pretty speech than anything else.

Still, her words nagged at him.

He'd take over the boy's combat training, once he was trained up that would offer Merlin some measure of protection.

The chatter in the hall quietened and Arthur realised Lady Helen had risen to sing. He waited expectantly, he wasn't particularly enamoured by her singing but his father wouldn't be pleased if he openly showed his boredom.

It wouldn't do to isolate such a celebrated performer after all.

The first few notes drifted over him, the hairs on his neck tingled, his eyelids suddenly felt so very heavy. He could feel a yawn bubbling up. His head drooped onto the table, he was just so tired. He couldn't even muster up enough energy to lift his eyelids.

It seemed he had just closed his eyes when he was blinking awake, sitting up and looking round in confusion.

Cobwebs?

He wasn't the only one who had fallen asleep.

What had-

A weight shoved into him, hard. Knocking him to the ground and landing on his chest with enough force to drive the air from his lungs. A familiar 'thunk' sounded. Arthur glanced up, still trying to return the air to his lungs and shoving the weight off of him.

He stilled, looking up at the knife that was seated hilt deep into the chair he had been sitting in not moments before turning to the boy lying at his side propped up on his elbow looking just as surprised.

"You're heavier than you look." The stupid comment was out of his mouth before he could think.

Merlin blinked at him then his expression warred between amused and affronted.

He got to his feet and opened his mouth, this time to thank the child, as much as he hated to utter those words but his father spoke before he could.

"A reward for saving my son's life. Name the treat you want."

The child hesitated.

"Don't be so modest." Uther chided.

"Can moth-Hunith stay with me?" The child asked hopefully.

"Of course. I'll see some honey cakes are sent over your way so you can have first pick." Uther added. Arthur couldn't quite decide if his father was being patronising or attempting to spoil the child in his own way.

It was difficult to tell.

There was relief on that small face, and happiness.

"Thank you!" Merlin exclaimed and Arthur knew it wasn't for the honey cakes or what the recognition him being served before everyone else, even the King, meant.

He ran his fingers over the wooden grain of the chair armrest. Clearly the peasant woman meant far more to the child than he'd suspected. Probably far more than his father thought too.

He ran his eyes over the dagger then to the woman lying on the ground, the chandelier on top of her like some obscure wreath.

Merlin followed his gaze and the spark of happiness that had suffused his face with an inner light extinguished faster than a snuffed out candle. Those achingly blue eyes locked and widened on the prone form.

Not quite sure why he did it Arthur stepped into Merlin's line of sight, blocking the dead body from view.

Merlin sucked in a startled breath.

"Is-is she d-dead?" He asked in a whisper.

"...Yes." Arthur answered, completely out of his depth. What was he supposed to do?

Merlin's face fell and his small hands shook.

This wasn't too far out of his realm, his Knights – when they were new – occasionally acted in such a way. Before death became a natural part of their lives.

He pressed his palm firmly on the lad's shoulder. It didn't quite have the calming effect Arthur had hoped for. Merlin jumped, twisting out of his loose grip, backing up just a step and looking at him with the same wariness he had shown through all their encounters.

In fact, he had been less wary when he hadn't known Arthur was his father.

Had the boy not seen a dead body before? Almost as if he could hear Arthur's thoughts the young boy scowled.

"I've seen bodies before." The boy muttered as though daring anyone to disagree. His eyes flickered in the direction of what had been Lady Helen but Arthur was still in the way.

Merlin's hands were still shaking, he was trembling almost. Again Arthur felt lost. What was he supposed to do? Tell the boy to buck up and get over it?

The words seemed to stick in his throat every time he tried.

"Merlin," A soft voice called and Arthur was almost relieved as the peasant woman stepped into view. Scratch that, he was relieved when she knelt on the floor and clasped the child in an embrace. The shudders seemed to fall away as Merlin sagged into her arms, pressing his face into her dress.

"Come on Merlin, it's been a long day. Why don't we get you to bed?" The woman prompted after a couple of minutes were neither moved. The child shook his head stubbornly and she sighed before straightening up the boy in her arms, face still pressed into her neck.

"Sire." She nodded before turning away and with light steps unobtrusively leaving the hall with _his son_.

Arthur watched them go, a curious mix of emotions swelling inside. A small part of him was relieved that the responsibility of sorting out Merlin had been taken from his shoulders. An even smaller part of him was envious that the woman, a peasant woman no less, knew how to deal with the situation with evident ease.

Neither of those..._feelings_ explained the sense of loss he felt at watching that tuft of black hair recede.

A small part of Morgana's words dismissed from earlier resounded in his mind. _He_ was a _father_.

Somehow, that was entirely different to having a son.

#

Arthur stifled a yawn as he wandered through the castle halls.

Maybe it was all the excitement from earlier but he was far too keyed up to sleep and lying in his chambers had just made him increasingly restless. So he was pacing through the castle like a man demented.

Earlier the events had unfolded a little too quickly for Arthur to take them in and so now he was running his mind over them, as was his wont, picking through and noticing things he'd dismissed before.

They were very lucky the chandelier had chosen that moment to break...he should ask his father to get someone to check the fastenings of the other ones, it wouldn't be good at all if more broke and fell on people who were not causing sorcery next time.

Maybe something to do with her singing had loosened the bolts or something. He didn't know how magic worked really.

A shuffling noise came from up ahead and Arthur approached feeling for the comforting weight of the dagger on his hip.

A rustle of clothing, the torches flickered; a shadow approached growing larger and there-

Oh, it was only one of the serving maids. Arthur put back his dagger feeling a little foolish about his jumpiness. He frowned when he noticed her arms were cradling something, a bundle. The woman stepped forward and Arthur recognised the features.

"Hunith? What are you doing?" Arthur asked, trying not to let suspicion enter his voice. She didn't jump at his question nor flee. Arthur wondered if that meant she was a consummate actress or actually doing something innocent.

"Hmmm? Oh, I was just getting some warm milk and honey to help Merlin sleep, Sire." She answered, holding up a cup wrapped in cloth to retain the heat.

"Is he not asleep yet then?" He asked in disapproval. It was closer to the early hours of the morning than night time.

"He gets nightmares sometimes." Hunith answered without offense.

Arthur frowned, he could still remember Morgana's screams as she thrashed about, locked in her mind terrors when they were children and he had been about to play a prank. The screams had startled him at the time, he'd thought she'd woken up, then came the fear when he realised she was still asleep.

What could be so painful as to make Morgana (one of the toughest people Arthur knew) scream until her throat was raw?

He had shaken her awake, unable to listen any longer and received a slap for his efforts from her flailing limbs.

When she had somewhat recovered, she had just looked at him, staring with such haunted eyes that he hadn't been able to bear it. He'd walked away back to his rooms. By the morning, when they'd met for breakfast, nothing had been said on the matter and nothing ever was.

"Gaius could prescribe a sleeping remedy." Arthur suggested. Hunith shook her head with a faint smile.

"Thank you for the kind thought, sire, but these are night terrors Merlin needs to work through himself if he is to be free of them. And probably brought on through the stress of the day."

It took Arthur longer than it should have to realise she wasn't only talking of the events at dinner.

"Ah, well, I should let you-"

"Mother?" A childish piping voice called, small and nearly inaudible footsteps approaching.

Arthur's stomach clenched. 'Mother'. He'd been wrong, Uther was wrong. Hunith meant far more to Merlin than they'd assumed. And it seemed Merlin meant more to Hunith than Arthur had guessed at too.

The little boy stepped around the corner, one hand rubbing his eyes, dressed in loose clothing that made him seem all the smaller.

"Merlin, what are you doing out of bed?" Hunith asked, her voice softening for the child.

"You were gone a long time." The boy answered, stepping closer and leaning into her side.

"Well I got a little lost and had to retrace my steps from the kitchens. You didn't go back to sleep?"

"No. Shadows." The boy answered as though it explained everything. Hunith seemed to understand.

"Hmmm, well let's go back to bed and you can drink your milk and honey while I chase away the big bad shadows."

Merlin frowned sleepily.

"Not 'fraid of the shadows." He protested. Hunith smiled at the childish bravado. Arthur tried to keep his own amusement at bay. "I just don't like what's _in_ them." The child continued.

Hunith's face fell and she looked at the boy worriedly. Arthur didn't see what was so worrisome but then women did tend to fuss over the oddest things.

"Goodnight, Sire." Hunith murmured, leading the sleepy boy back to his chambers.

And Arthur was once again left to his own devices in the hall. He sighed and made his way back to his own rooms. He should try to get to sleep.

After all, he was an adult; he didn't need warm milk to help him drift off.


	3. If wishes were horses

Disclaimer.

As mentioned before updates will be irregular (sorry, its a WIP).

Warnings: Um...I don't think there is anything to warn about...

Canon? What canon? (Seriously, the time line is skewed, the ages of the characters is messed up and I highly doubt any of them are in character...)

###

Arthur took a sip of his watered wine (he preferred not to drink full bodied alcohol in the morning, it left him a little too sleepy for him to spar properly), suddenly feeling parched.

The tension in the room seemed to racket up a notch.

His father, appearing not to notice, neatly sliced off a bit of sausage and ate it.

Merlin fiddled with a piece of fruit speared on his fork.

Morgana sighed.

Well, for a first family breakfast this was going...

Was going...

It was going.

Merlin stared at his plate, eyes only occasionally lifting to dart around at each of them in turn, lingering on the two men like they were about to turn feral and start snapping.

Arthur felt a little affronted. Of all of them it would be Morgana who snapped first, she was just that ferocious.

He caught Merlin's eyes briefly before those blue orbs shot down to the table as though it was the most fascinating thing since jousting. The child fiddled with the food on his fork once again.

Uther cleared his throat. Merlin jumped and Morgana twirled one long dark curl of hair round her finger.

Arthur drained his goblet.

"Don't play with your food." Uther chided.

Merlin stiffened then carefully laid down the fork and sat still and silent, almost as though he had been frozen in place. As though he would be quite happy to sink into the floor and never be seen again.

Arthur frowned, had Merlin even taken a single bite? He'd played with it a bit but not actually swallowed a morsel. He opened his mouth to mention it when a sudden movement caught his eyes. Morgana knocked over her goblet with a deliberate jerk of her elbow and glared at him.

Arthur wondered what was wrong with the woman as she apologised, smiling gently, all signs of that dark glare wiped away.

Silence again fell around the table.

Merlin fidgeted.

Morgana sighed.

Uther wiped his mouth with a napkin before dropping it to his now empty plate before rising to his feet and leaving the room.

Morgana rolled her eyes and left too. By the time Arthur glanced back to Merlin the child was gone, an empty chair and plate of food the only sign he had ever been at the table.

Well, family breakfast...at least it was over.

#

Merlin grinned as he avoided another crack in the cobble stones and hopped onto another chunk of stone.

His mother would walk ahead a bit then wait for him to catch up. He liked walking with Hunith because she didn't get impatient and tell him to move along faster, she let him play his game.

He slipped and only just caught himself in time.

He eyed his mother, not too far away. He looked at the cobblestones that seemed to get smaller and smaller until he was sure even his feet were too big to stand on one. He gave up playing the game, it wasn't really all that fun anyway, and scampered over to his mother. He didn't realise she was talking to someone until he was too close to not continue so he made his way to her side.

It was one of those Knights! Merlin narrowed his eyes; they weren't going to be nasty to _his_ mother. On second glance he realised he didn't recognise this one. That did little to assuage his concerns.

"Merlin," A familiar hand ran through his hair in a caress that Merlin would only ever admit to her he enjoyed. "Say hello to Sir Ewan."

He stared at the Knight watching as he seemed to recognise who he was.

"Oh! You're the prince's..."

Merlin waited tensely for the word. The word that seemed to dog his steps wherever he went.

It didn't come. The Knight looked cross.

"My apologies, my mouth ran away with me." Sir Ewan said stiffly, inclining his head to mother. Her hand ran soothingly over his hair once again.

"Are you enjoying court so far?" Sir Ewan asked, leaning down to look at him.

Merlin tilted his head back, Sir Ewan was very tall.

He glanced uncertainly to his mother.

"Yes?"

Sir Ewan seemed to mull over his response.

"So what have you found good?"

"Um...the castle is nice?..."

Sir Ewan stared at him. Merlin shifted uncertainly.

"I like the statues." Merlin added into the silence, remembering the stone dogs he had petted the day before. Sir Ewan smiled, it looked stiff.

Merlin shrank into his mother's side slightly.

"Ah, there's Gaius, I'm sorry to be so rude but I've got to quickly ask him a question. Won't be long." His mother murmured, gaze distant as she spotted the court physician. She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before leaving him with the Knight.

Merlin shifted, eyes following his mother's retreat. His eyes automatically snapped to the Knight when he moved, kneeling on the stone in front of him.

"That looks painful." Sir Ewan remarked quietly, indicating to Merlin's face but not touching him. Merlin's fingers twitched, almost involuntarily moving to trace the dark bruising.

He shrugged. He'd had worse.

"Hmmm." The Knight murmured, eyes still scanning the mark. Merlin swallowed when he realised Ewan knew exactly how and where he'd gotten the bruise. He squared his chin.

Ewan gave a funny little half smile and rose to his feet, stepping back as Hunith reappeared.

"Just examining his badge of bravery." Ewan said easily with a smile to his mother. Hunith smiled.

"Yes, he's a little clumsy, always tripping over and into things."

Merlin caught the quick glance down Ewan shot and hoped the Knight wouldn't tell his mother the truth of where he got the bruise. Ewan's face cleared.

"Aren't all children?" The two adults shared a laugh before Ewan made his excuses and left.

Merlin glanced thoughtfully backwards as he and his mother continued on their way to view the market.

Sir Ewan seemed alright. For a knight.

#

"If you're lurking in the hallway again you could at least make yourself useful!" Her voice shattered the silence. Arthur fumbled for the candlestick and grimaced as it fell to the ground, the metal clipping against stone in a rather irritating sound.

He debated whether it would be better for his peace of mind to just slink away now before he remembered that he didn't back down from anything.

Not even a..._conversation_ with Morgana.

He slowly entered his doom. Sorry - Morgana's chambers.

"Let me guess, you want to get closer to your new found son yet have no idea how to do so." Morgana said not even looking at him as she examined the hems of three different dresses.

Arthur shut his mouth with a click.

"Please, you're hardly discrete. And he's a nice boy; I can see why you'd want to get to know him."

She put the dresses down carefully on the bed and turned to face him with a rather daunting smirk.

"Since you have it all worked out, what do you suppose I do?" Arthur asked barely refraining from rolling his eyes. This was why he had loitered outside her rooms for so long. At least he could say she snapped before he did.

(He couldn't quite ignore the sourness in his mouth from having to ask for _help_. From _Morgana_.)

"I told you." She exclaimed incredulously, looking at him with that superior look she had perfected that said she thought his brains had leaked out of his ears in sheer disgust at being in his presence for one second longer.

Disdainful. Morgana was rather proficient at making grown men feel like they were five years old and knee high to a herring.

"..."

"Get to know him." She was not so restrained in holding back an eye roll.

"How, exactly?"

"Find a common ground! He's eight, it shouldn't be too hard. Now unless you wish to be educated on the subtleties of woman's dresses I suggest you leave before Lady Garr-"

He was out of the room before she said the word 'dresses'.

Well, that hadn't been any use at all.

And he got the vague feeling he'd been insulted.

Huh.

#

Merlin hummed tunelessly to himself as his mother examined yet another stall filled with exotic items.

It had interested Merlin...to begin with. But after the third stall they'd inspected his interest had begun waning. They were now on the twelfth.

He sighed, slumping his shoulders. His mother didn't notice, too drawn into her conversation about the quality of cloth. He scuffed his foot on the ground.

A set of stalls further down caught his attention, gleaming apples piled in a pyramid, coils of meat and the mouth watering scent of freshly baked bread.

Merlin wasn't the only one eyeing those stalls hungrily.

He watched as a boy, only a bit older than him, snuck over to brightly coloured table and got his hand walloped by the man selling the wares for his trouble before he could even snatch at the food.

The boy retreated sucking at his hand, that wooden spoon shaped like a bowl looked like it hurt!

Merlin noticed the boy didn't leave but instead disappeared in one of the shadowed areas close by followed by a scraggly dressed girl roughly the same age.

He eyed them as they approached the stall seller again, inching closer with the plan for one of them to distract and the other to snatch. Unfortunately the man at the stall spotted them again.

Merlin frowned, scanning the area quickly for anyone watching.

Suddenly the large pile of shiny round fruit tilted slightly, one lone apple rolling down followed by a multitude of others gathering momentum as they sped to the ground and off the table.

The stall seller yelped but was too distracted keeping his trousers up to do more than shout as the boy and girl Merlin had been watching crammed their pockets full of apples and fled the scene, ill fitting clothes on their scrawny frames flapping behind them.

Merlin grinned, watching the ruckus over the fallen fruit with no small amount of glee.

"_Merlin_." A voice sighed, chidingly. He schooled his face into an expression of pure innocence and looked into his mother's warmly crinkled face.

"What?" He asked, a study in harmlessness.

"You know _what_, you cheeky so and so." His mother said sternly. Merlin ducked his head and shuffled his foot.

"They looked hungry." He muttered, looking up again. Hunith nodded, eyes flickering to the left and displaying a hint of concern before she once again pierced him with a stern look.

"Plus, did you see his face?" Merlin added, gesturing to the stall owner, a grin splitting his face.

"Merlin." His mother scolded again but it lost any sting it could have had when he saw her lips twitch in amusement.

"You should be more careful." She warned, totally serious.

"No one saw."

"This time."

They lapsed into silence, watching the crowd either nicking the apples or helping the man pick them back up.

Merlin picked up one of the red fruits when it rolled his way from someone's careless foot.

"Give that back to the man." Hunith ordered him gently but firmly.

"I was going to." Merlin whined. He didn't know whether to be annoyed or pleased that his mother didn't believe him for a second as she just looked at him pointedly. He sighed and made his way through the small crowd, trying and failing to get the store sellers attention.

Eventually he succeeded.

"Yes? What do you want?" The man snapped.

Merlin silently held up the apple for him to take. The man's face thawed.

"Thank you, lad." He ruffled Merlin's hair. Merlin stiffened at the touch but it didn't last long enough for him to move away.

"You're welcome, Mister." Merlin said, turning to leave but a hand at his shoulder stopped him.

"Take this. Heavens knows I've lost today's crop. Plus it's too bruised to sell." The man said, giving him back the unblemished apple and ruffling his hair once more.

"Thank you." Merlin blinked, returning to his mother.

He glanced back at the much smaller looking stall now the apples were gone and felt a little guilty. But the boy and girl had looked so hungry! Like the hunger after a poor harvest and then a cold winter...and it was sunny today! Merlin didn't even need his jacket.

And the stall owner looked well fed and had coin in his pocket. And his clothing was nice. Not like the nobles he'd seen at the feast but nicer than any he'd seen in Ealdor.

He looked at the barely bruised apple in his hand and tucked it into his pocket. Suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore.

"Come on, let's go back to the castle and scrounge up an afternoon snack. I didn't realise it was this late." His mother said, walking them back the way they'd come. Merlin followed silently, not bothering to play his skipping game with avoiding the cracks.

His vision was suddenly overwhelmed with green and Merlin blinked at the fabric, slowly looking up the swathe of silky cloth to find the lady from yesterday and this morning looking at him in amusement.

"Well, hello again, Merlin." She greeted.

"Lady Morgana." Merlin remembered. She had looked like she was sucking a lemon when she attended the feast. A lot of men and woman had stared at her. She hadn't looked much happier at breakfast with him, the prince and the king.

He couldn't blame her. The silences were _awful_.

But it was better than shouting.

"Please, dispense of the titles, we're practically related." Morgana said with a smile. "So are you enjoying the market?" She asked, bending down slightly.

"Yes?" Merlin answered uncertainly. Was he supposed to like the stalls?

"My favourite one is the silk stand, the colours are mesmerising. What's your favourite so far?"

"..."

"Let me guess, the toy stand or is it the one with all the little cakes?" Morgana teased.

"...I like the books." He offered tentatively. She blinked as though surprised, thrown by his comment.

"You like reading?" She asked archly. Merlin leaned against his mother's hip and nodded. "Ah, forgive me the surprise, your father doesn't like to even look at a book let alone read one."

Merlin said nothing. He wasn't his fath-he wasn't a prince.

"So, what sort of books do you like?" Morgana asked curiously.

He shrugged.

"Stories? History? Romances?"

He pulled a face at that one, lovey dovey books were boring. Will gagged theatrically whenever he felt a conversation got too sickening and he mocked romantic books with a sort of gleeful sadism.

Merlin didn't want Will to think he was a sissy or anything! Plus not much ever really happened in the romance books Susan in Ealdor liked.

Morgana laughed, a couple of heads turned their way.

"Okay, not romance books," Merlin relaxed slightly, "your father pulls that same face at the merest mention of _emotions_." Morgana added. Merlin tensed, leaning further into his mother. She ran a soothing hand through his hair.

"Oh, Merlin, why don't you introduce us?" Hunith murmured softly, brushing back the hair from his face.

"Mother this is Morgana, Morgana, mother." Merlin mumbled.

"Hunith, my lady." His mother greeted with a curtsy.

"A pleasure." Morgana said. "Well, I should be off, the silk cart is calling." Morgana gave a half smile half smirk as she inclined her head then moved off towards the market.

His mother led them up the path, continuing their way back to his new rooms.

(His rooms were huge! Bigger than the whole house in Ealdor and far finer. Honestly it was great...but a little intimidating. He really didn't want to break something and he felt like he was guest even though he'd been told – by Gaius and his mother – that the rooms were _his_. He imagined Will would scoff at his new rooms and call him a fancy boy.)

"How are we 'practically related'?" Merlin asked as they entered the cool stone of the castle.

"What?" His mother frowned.

"What Morgana said." Merlin explained.

"Oh, well I presume she was talking about the fact she's the Kings ward, almost his adopted daughter considering her role at court." Hunith replied after a quiet moment of thought.

"Oh. Why is she the King's ward?"

"Because...because her parents aren't around anymore."

"You mean dead." Merlin stated bluntly. His mother looked at him with a chiding expression. He shrugged; he wasn't going to feel guilty for stating the truth. He'd long gotten over that trick.

Hunith sighed but nodded.

#

Merlin shifted from one foot to the other as he weighed the helm in his hands.

Was he supposed to...?

One of the bustling women who had taken over his new chambers temporarily adjusted the leather straps on his arm. The chain mail links were cool to the touch and Merlin wondered idly how many individual loops made up the shirt.

Much less than an adults one, he hazarded a guess, considering he was less than half the size of someone like Arthur.

Apparently the chain mail that was poured over his head was one of Arthur's from when he was a child.

Merlin wasn't quite sure what to think about that.

He sighed.

"Is it done yet?" He asked. (From his mother's face she thought he was whining again. He _wasn't_.)

He lowered his arm ignoring the glare from the woman fiddling with the arm guard again.

"Nearly, young master, try for a little more patience." The yellow haired woman tutted.

He had been patient! He had stood here while they fussed and dressed him in weird things (and he could dress himself thank you very much! He wasn't a baby) and he didn't even know why he was being dressed like this. The women had simply invaded his room!

Maybe if he had had prior warning he could have barricaded himself in and laughed while they attempted to siege his well supplied room. After all, he had an apple. That was enough supplies until dinner. Maybe even breakfast.

And water.

_And_ his door bolted. _Awesome_.

"Why is this necessary? I can dress myself." Merlin complained resisting the urge to scowl.

The yellow haired woman blinked at him, as if _he_ was the stupid one.

"How else are you supposed to train if not properly equipped with protective armour?"

"Train?" Merlin parroted with a frown and a sinking feeling. Much as he had enjoyed running around Ealdor pretending to be a sword fighter of renown along with Will playing the scurvy knave he wasn't all that enamoured with actually learning how to use a real sword.

They were sharp. Pointy. And the flat bits hurt worse than a smack when they struck skin.

Maybe she meant some other type of training?

Like horse riding? He liked horses, they were funny when they ate apples from your hand.

The yellow haired woman dashed the small sliver of hope like a bug under foot.

"Sword training, of course! And probably other things like mace, crossbow and lance training and hunting...all sorts of things boys like you love to do." She spoke like he was as dim witted as Phil. The donkey in Ealdor that barked at the chickens.

He decided he didn't like her.

"But I don't want to train." He objected.

"Nonsense. Of course you do, how else will you be good at it?"

Merlin scowled. He didn't _want_ to be good at sword fighting. He didn't _want_ to be a knight.

And he certainly didn't want to stand here amidst all this unnecessary fussing whilst waiting for his doom to strike.

Perhaps they would give him a kind tutor? With lots of patience? Who perhaps understood that Merlin much preferred to learn about the world around him than which end to poke people with a stick of metal?


	4. Beggars would ride

Disclaimer.

Warnings: Um...misunderstandings...

I like the word whimsy, it gives me such _control_. (Evil laughter in the background as author continues to torment characters.)

Again, updates will be extremely irregular. (Hopefully not too long between each update though.)

###

Arthur grinned. Today was a good day. He could sense it.

He was going to teach his son the basics of how to fight just like Uther had once done for him and hopefully get to know a bit more about the dark haired lad.

He wagered Merlin would turn out to be a natural, like him, and soon come to adore the art Arthur had spent years perfecting.

It would be their common ground, a way to bond.

He made his way to the training ground cheerfully, feeling the sun warm the exposed skin of his face. He nodded to Sir Leon who was standing quietly to the side watching the newest recruits spar with interest, visibly compiling a list of things for them to improve upon.

"Sir Leon, have you seen to it that Merlin has been outfitted with a sword?" Arthur asked. Leon was a good knight with a loyal heart below his sturdy shoulders. Arthur had thought him the best to find a sword that would match up to Merlin's stature.

Leon turned reluctantly from the spar.

"There wasn't a sword in the armoury fit for his stature. I took the liberty of giving him a wooden one instead." Leon said quietly. Arthur frowned.

"You know that sparring with a blunt metal sword is far better to encourage reflexes than a wooden one."

Leon nodded fingers tapping against his hauberk.

"Yes sire, however, it would not do to outfit the lad with a sword too heavy or with too great a reach. It would encourage bad habits to form. Even the smallest wooden swords look to be too big for the lad. If you really want him to train properly he will have to have a sword commissioned."

Arthur valued Sir Leon's input in a way he didn't most other peoples. Which was why he was listening to him.

Leon looked away, to the sparring pair who had halted their movements for now, before shifting his shoulders.

"Pardon me, Sire, but it also seemed more prudent to give the lad a wooden sword. He wasn't at all comfortable with them."

Arthur scoffed.

"He just doesn't know how to properly hold a sword yet. He'll be fine after a few minutes tutelage. He's a Pendragon."

Leon avoided his gaze again.

"Perhaps, Sire, you might reconsider having Sir Ewan teach the lad? He is good with beginners and patient."

Arthur frowned.

"Thank you for your input Sir Leon, but I don't think that will be necessary." Arthur clapped the man on the shoulder and strode off to where he could just about spy a small figure standing at the edge of the field.

He approached quietly, not managing silently in his armour, and studied the young boy.

Merlin didn't have the bulk, the sturdy frame that Arthur had carried through childhood and still bore today strengthened by training. So the hauberk was loose on the lad. His bony wrists poked out of long sleeves, exposed and far too vulnerable.

Arthur picked up the helmet that was sitting on the ground evidently discarded by the child.

"Ready?" He asked, watching as Merlin jolted out of his thoughts, finally realising he was there.

(Arthur would have to work on that, his approach had hardly been subtle. A prince should always be alert.)

Wide eyes locked onto him, hands looking far too frail as they clutched the wooden stave tightly. Arthur didn't care to see his son looking so defenceless so he tossed over the helmet.

Merlin fumbled the catch, dropping the sword and letting out a muffled 'oof' as the solid helmet impacted with his chest.

Arthur narrowed his eyes; it hadn't been a hard throw, no force behind the gentle lob.

"First rule of combat: don't drop your weapon." Arthur chided picking up and offering the stave to the child. The helmet was too big for the boy. Merlin pushed it back enough to look at him but didn't say anything.

"Ready?" Arthur asked again, hefting his own wooden sword. He could hardly fight the lad with a real one when he was using a wooden toy.

"Would it make a difference if I said no?" The child asked, holding the sword with uncertainly, tip pointing down to the ground.

"Not really." Arthur responded.

Arthur readied himself, he would have to go gently – this was Merlin's first time using a sword. He found attacking and seeing how the new recruits responded was a good indicator to see what the training needed to focus on. He didn't train children usually but the principal should be the same.

With reluctance Merlin raised the wooden sword aloft with two hands holding it out in front of him looking at it like it would turn around and bite him.

"Body. Shield. Body Shield." Arthur swung into motion following his words with actions. Merlin shifted the wooden sword but didn't manage to repel any of the attacks. In fact his wooden sword didn't so much as touch Arthur's.

Arthur made the conscious effort to keep the blows as gentle as possible, barely striking flesh.

He came to a halt watching as the child raised his sword slightly, uncertainly.

"Shield." Merlin stated giving a hesitant swing at Arthur's shield before dropping the sword entirely.

"Head."

"Head? Ow!" Merlin glared, rubbing his head but made no move to pick up his weapon. Arthur frowned.

"Come on, Merlin. You're not even trying." Arthur half chided half taunted as Merlin finally (what had Arthur said about dropping your weapon?) made to pick up the stick of wood.

"I am!" Merlin huffed, arms shaking as he hefted the weapon that was about as deadly as Arthur's shoe.

"Once more." Arthur said, watching Merlin's feet and body language.

"Oh, no." Merlin muttered, cheeks puffing like a squirrel as he huffed again.

"To the left. To the right. And left. Head."

"Ow!" Merlin, caught off balance with the sword that looked far too long for such a small boy, toppled over backwards. His helmet rolled off and he made no move to return to his feet.

"Is it over?" The child asked hopefully, looking up at the blue sky above dotted with fluffy clouds.

Arthur hesitated. This was not going at all like he had expected...He had thought that any child of his would at least be innately good at sword fighting, at least have the wherewithal to actually _move_ during a spar. And even if he didn't have natural talent at it then Arthur was sure enthusiasm would make up for its lack.

Footwork was essential. Possibly the most important part of sword fighting apart from actually holding the weapon by the hilt.

He glanced at the wooden sword lying abandoned on the damp grass. Perhaps sword fighting wasn't Merlin's thing. (Plus Arthur hated training – and teaching – with a wooden sword. It encouraged far poorer reflexes than training with real metal swords.)

"That was just the warm up. Let's see how you fare with a mace." Arthur suggested brightly.

(It wasn't until he handed the child a mace that he realised an essential flaw in his plan. The mace was simply too heavy for Merlin to pick up let alone wield properly.)

#

Merlin huffed, rolling over and disturbing the nest of pillows on his bed. Again.

He couldn't get to sleep. The bed was far too comfortable. (Ha! Merlin never thought he would think _that_.) He was used to sleeping on the floor of their hut in Ealdor not the fine bed he now found himself in filled with feathers and with more pillows than an entire village would need!

He shivered as a cool breeze drifted over his exposed shoulders and pulled the blanket up over his head.

He frowned; he could have sworn he heard something along with the small gust of air, something that sounded remarkably similar to his name.

It came again. Along with another brush of air.

Merlin stiffened. He was under the quilt, how had the air gotten there?

The voice called his name again and Merlin wasn't sure if he was imagining the amusement or not.

Slowly he crawled over to the edge of the bed and carefully he jumped down, making sure to muffle his landing with a squishy pillow.

He swung his jacket over his shoulders and slowly crept out of his room, wincing when the door opened with a creak, the ancient latch finally lifting with some effort. He stiffened when the door opened fully hoping the noise hadn't woken his mother.

She was a light sleeper and had a second sense when it came to him 'causing mischief'. (Her words.)

After a few seconds of continued quiet Merlin relaxed once more, tiptoeing into the outer room and heading to the door, only pausing briefly to pull the blanket over his mother's shoulders before stepping out into the hall.

He glanced around cautiously, nabbed the torch just sitting there in its bracket (with a little help from the wooden box he shifted just a bit so he could actually reach the torch) before following the voice down the steps of the castle, into the depths he hadn't yet explored and past the dungeons.

(He used their game as distraction...plus maybe enchanting their dice a little.)

He crept down the steps muffling a yawn.

Who could be calling him mentally? Because from the guards lack of reaction and the fact his mother stayed asleep the voice couldn't be speaking aloud.

_"__Merlin..."_

He dragged his jacket tighter against him as the chill (from being so far beneath the castle) crawled over him seeking any gap or crevice in his clothing to sink its claws into.

Finally he made it to the bottom of the steps and with only his torch for light he stepped out into a large cavern.

"Hello?" He called, not seeing a way to continue on his path. No one answered.

"Hello? Anyone there?" He tried again, not willing to call this venture a loss just yet.

Just as he was about to give up (he was tired, cold and still ached from the sword fighting lesson) a large figure swooped in settling on the rock in front of Merlin with catlike ease.

Merlin's draw dropped.

Large golden eyes surveyed him.

"How very small you are for such a great destiny." The dragon said in a deep, lulling voice, settling more comfortably and lowering his head, chin propped up his front claws (paws?). The dragon didn't blink. Merlin wasn't sure he could remember how to.

Merlin abruptly found his voice.

"What? Why-Can you breathe fire?" He asked too excitedly to finish one question before beginning another. "And are you magic? Is that how you talked in my head? Why were you calling me? Why are you down here? Why-"

The dragon, looking increasingly exasperated, held up a long claw to quieten him.

Merlin snapped his mouth shut and gazed with rapt awe at the long scaled paw just in front of his face.

"Arthur is the Once and Future King who will unite the all the land of Albion but he-"

The dragon immediately stopped talking when Merlin stepped closer and reached out to touch the claw, small hands running over the strong bone before touching the scales below.

"Scales." Merlin breathed not listening to a word the dragon was saying, too enraptured with the real life dragon in front of him. He had always wanted to meet a dragon! "Are you like a snake?" He asked, looking up curiously.

"I am a dragon, little Warlock-"

"Yes," Merlin interrupted again, focusing back on the claw, "but do you shed your skin? Like a snake? Because they have scales too."

The dragon snorted and a great ball of fire seemed to explode outwards. It wasn't that big and more in a ring around him than directed right at him but Merlin could feel the heat from it.

Once again his mouth hung open.

"He will face threats from friends and foes alike and it is-"

"Wow! Can you do that again? I think my eyebrows are scorched!-"

The great dragon continued talking seeming to find ignoring Merlin the best option.

"-However he will not succeed without-"

"-That was amazing! I can't wait to tell Will, he'll be so jealous. Actually, he'll probably want to meet-"

"-you. Without you there will be no Albion."

"-but I'm not sure bringing him to Camelot is the best idea. Do you want an apple?"

The Great Dragon blinked.

"Why would I want an apple?" He eventually asked, looking at the bright red fruit held out in Merlin's palm with the faintest hint of disdain and more than a bit of confusion.

Merlin shrugged.

"Well if you're locked up in this cave I doubt you get many apples."

The Great Dragon blinked again.

"Well, that's one way of putting it."

Merlin decided not to voice the logical (to his mind at least) reason that horses liked apples so why shouldn't dragons? He had a feeling that might not go down very well.

"I am a creature of the old religion." The Dragon intoned and Merlin wondered if he was going to have to listen to yet another lecture. Why did adults insist on trying to prove to him that they were clever? He already knew that they knew more than him (in most cases), considering they had lived more years but they didn't need to prove it by boring him to death.

"And thus require no sustenance other than the natural magic that flows around us continually."

Merlin stifled a yawn.

The dragon peered at him and Merlin got the feeling he was under the scrutiny of someone raising their eyebrow at him.

"I suppose very young warlocks need their sleep." The dragon sighed sounding rather put out before flying away, the chain hanging from his ankle clanging against the rock.

Merlin jumped, almost losing his grip of the over large torch.

"Wait!" He called but the dragon was already gone.

He made his way back into the castle and into bed without singing his toes or further mishap. Which was almost a shame really; the night could have done with a little adventure.

Meeting a dragon was awesome and Merlin couldn't wait to tell Will but it kind of took the mystique out of it when the dragon was chained up and festering underneath the castle forgotten by all.

Well, it didn't really but it was...sad.

Merlin suddenly hated the shackles with fervour previously unknown. What right did some chunks of metal have to hold someone down? To keep them from sunlight? To take away their freedom?

He completely forgot to return the torch to its bracket and instead stewed, pacing in his room and glaring like the curtains had done something to mortally offend him.

Merlin transferred his glare to the silver candlesticks gleaming in the firelight.

"And where have you been?" A voice asked archly.

Merlin gasped, spinning around and finally dropping the lit torch at his feet...unfortunately right onto the pillow he had moved onto the floor earlier. The pillow set alight with a sudden blaze. Merlin jumped back automatically.

A jug of water was upended, quenching the small fire.

He glanced up sheepishly catching his mother's unimpressed look.

"Looking for secret passages?" He offered.

She raised an eyebrow, obviously to tell him to try another one.

"I thought someone was calling my name." He admitted, glancing down at his feet.

His mother sighed.

"Try not to go wandering by yourself, Merlin, remember what happened last time?"

He stiffened, hunching his shoulders inwards as if to make a smaller target.

"That-that was different." His eyes darted round the room making sure there was no one hiding in the shadows. His mother looked at him sadly.

"Not different enough." She murmured, running a soothing hand through his hair. He shivered. "Now, how about you get back to bed and try for some sleep?"

Merlin nodded jumping up onto the bed and crawling under the covers.

He watched as she gathered up the singed, sopping pillow. She brushed his forehead with a kiss and he closed his eyes.

Sleep was a futile endeavour when every few minutes he had to wrench his eyes open and check there really was no one hiding in the shadows.

#

Merlin dressed reluctantly in his training gear, scrubbing his face and attempting to stifle a yawn. He wasn't looking forward to another session of getting beaten up by Arthur.

It was bad enough that he had to train never mind the fact that Arthur looked so disappointed when Merlin failed at this weapon then the next and the next and the next...

He kicked his bed post. A throbbing pain shot through his foot. Well, that didn't calm him down any, just made him feel more miserable!

He poked at the bread a maid servant had brought up when he was washing.

"Eat up; you'll need your strength." His mother advised, carefully slicing up an apple.

"I don't want to train with Arthur." Merlin said grumpily.

"He's your father, Merlin; he's trying to do his best by you."

"Hmpf."

She offered him a neat slice of apple shaped like a smile. He grudgingly took it, putting it on his plate alongside his uneaten roll.

She picked up another slice and bit into the flesh in such a way that the skin of the apple acted as a third lip, making it look like she was smiling with green peel lips.

He copied her, mustering up a small but genuine grin as he ate the sweet-sharp fruit.

"Why don't you give him a chance?" His mother asked once the apple was demolished. Merlin frowned at the table. The bruise on his jaw had faded for the most part and he didn't blame Arthur for it (it was hardly the first time he had been bruised and not at all comparable pain wise) but he hadn't exactly seen enough of Arthur to endear him either.

"Alright." He sighed gustily, attempting to look put-upon.

His mother smiled. He hid his answering smile behind his goblet of milk.

It was sunny again, which was nice, but Merlin could see the grey clouds begin to gather. Hopefully rain meant he wouldn't have training.

Merlin doubted it, but it was a nice hope.

"Little prince!"

Merlin barely heard the call (and certainly didn't assume it was directed at _him_) as he gingerly picked up the wooden sword from yesterday.

He could barely raise it with two arms, let alone with one. It had been hard enough trying to swing it the day before let alone trying to remember the correct way of standing, correct posture all the while being criticised for this and that.

If he could have wielded it one handed he would have!

"Little prince." The voice repeated closer and Merlin looked up at a familiar face.

"Sir Ewan." He greeted, with more enthusiasm than he would any other knight. (Sir Leon was perhaps the only other one who would get any warmth from him; the man had been fair when trying to fit him to a sword.)

"Little prince," Merlin blinked at this new form of address, "I'm to take your training this morning."

"Is Arthu-I mean, the Prince, busy then?" Merlin enquired feeling a surge of relief that Arthur wasn't going to be sending him disappointed looks all day and unhelpful advice.

"He has to oversee the knights training. I'll be taking over yours from now on." Sir Ewan informed him with a small upwards curve of his lips that was just a little warmer than lukewarm.

Merlin's fingers twitched around the wooden sword. A crushing surge of disappointment flooded through him.

His face fell.

Ah, so he hadn't matched up to Arthur's expectations then.

(Well, he knew that, had known it, but...the reality hurt more than Merlin had expected.)

He didn't know he wanted Arthur's approval, wanted to see a little pride perhaps from the man who sired him. But apparently he wasn't worth the effort to train, not since he was such a _disappointment_.

(Why had he expected it to be any different?)

"Is everything alright?" Sir Ewan asked awkwardly, as if not quite sure what to say.

"Everything is fine." Merlin lied, mustering the brightest smile he could. He wasn't sure it was very bright however as Sir Ewan didn't look convinced. He let the matter be and Merlin felt a small surge of gratitude for that small mercy.

"Right, well I saw a little bit of the training yesterday," Merlin didn't even bother to feel embarrassed, "and I think we need to start at the basics, just like most other people." Sir Ewan gave him a smile that had a sliver of amusement within.

"Hand to hand combat first, you need to know how your body moves and train it before you can get to any of the weapons. After all, your body is both your first defence and your first weapon..."

#

Arthur watched as two of his knights sparred, eyeing their forms critically.

"Finished already? I would have thought you'd work the poor boy to death." A familiar female voice drawled. Arthur closed his eyes briefly and refused to give her the satisfaction of any other visible response.

"What are you talking about now, Morgana? Can't you speak plainly for once?"

She sniffed; a delicate sound completely at odds to her personality.

"I thought you were training Merlin. You know, _your_ _son_."

He grimaced. He could admit to himself that he was disappointed that Merlin wasn't a natural at fighting like he had been; it would have been a place to bond from. But it appeared that Merlin just didn't have that fighting instinct, seemed to almost baulk at causing someone pain.

"I instructed Sir Ewan to take over his training."

"I'm sorry, what did you say? I thought you were excited to instruct him as if he was one of your loyal hounds-sorry, knights." Morgana smiled sharply.

Arthur shrugged. "He hasn't got the knack for it."

"So he's a lover not a fighter. What of it? What does that have to do with you not training him?" Morgana asked.

"I'm not the right instructor for him."

"And Sir Ewan is?" He could almost feel her raised eyebrow.

"Surprisingly enough, yes. He has the patience and knowledge to start from ground up."

"Did that hurt you to say?"

He gritted his teeth, shooting her a glare. She looked supremely unconcerned.

"So, what other activity are you going to do to 'bond' with your darling son?"

Arthur glowered. Morgana inhaled sharply and shot him a glare.

"You can't just give up on him! Not because he isn't as good as you with a sword!" She exclaimed, eyes narrowed to slits.

"I'm not!" Arthur defended, his own ire rising. She raised an eyebrow in challenge for him to refute her claim. "I'm not." He repeated. "I just don't know what else to-how do you talk with a child? Let alone your own child?"

She looked at him for a long moment.

"Ah, so it isn't a case of you giving up, just you being a coward."

Arthur opened his mouth in outrage but Morgana beat him to the punch.

"You assumed he'd be good at fighting, that he'd turn out to be similar enough to you that you would have an easy basis to form a camaraderie; that you could talk battle tactics to, spar with like one of your knights. But he isn't like you and now you don't know what to do so instead of trying you cower behind your knights."

Her words were harsh but not spat at him venomously like he might have expected. In fact there was a glimmer of sympathy in those dark merciless eyes. It was gone in a flash and Arthur barely had time to wonder if he'd imagined it before she spoke again.

"You have to try."

"I know."

"And soon." Morgana urged.

Arthur didn't deign to answer.

#

Merlin skulked around the castle after training having dodged his mother.

Training had gone much better than yesterday. Merlin had a conflicted response to that.

On one hand, he was pleased he was doing better or the material was more suited. On the other, well, Arthur had evidently given up on him, hadn't even spoken to him or sought him out even though they were on the same field.

He hadn't realised he had actually wanted Arthur to take notice in him until that first stab of disappointment hit.

He knew that Arthur was his father but he was ten! He had been fine without a father for eight years; surely he didn't need one now.

Besides, he had his mother.

But this reasoning didn't explain the hurt.

Arthur was his father and to be brushed aside with nary a word was...unexpectedly painful.

He stared mournfully at the statue of the dog wishing it was alive so he could sink his fingers into its fur and cuddle close, feeling a reassuring heart beat thud close to his own.

The stone remained stone and Merlin sighed at further proof that wishes just did not come true.

No matter what Will said.

A butterfly flew past; its slender wings beating up and down almost faster than the eye could catch as it determinedly made its way.

He wished he could fly. That would be brilliant.

"And what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be with your tutor?"

Merlin gasped, spinning round at the familiar voice interrupted his musings.

"Gaius!" He exclaimed, stepping closer to the aged man and peering curiously at the vials in his grip.

Gaius shifted them a little higher so Merlin couldn't touch.

"I notice you haven't answered my question, Merlin." Gaius chided.

Merlin frowned, trying to think up something believable that wouldn't get him into trouble. He wasn't going to admit that Arthur had hurt his feelings, he wasn't a cry baby.

Gaius waited, his eyebrow slowly arching up into his hairline. Merlin was almost fascinated.

It was almost the exact same look his mother used when trying to wheedle information from him.

Scary thought.

"Arthur's a prat." He blurted out, quite without meaning to. He straightened his shoulders as he waited for Gaius to chide him in that very adult manner about not being rude and that Arthur wasn't that bad.

Instead Gaius sighed and simply said: "Well, I don't suppose you would like to help and old man on his rounds?"

Merlin blinked. Then grinned.

"Yes! Please!" He tacked on when he remembered the manners his mother was always trying to drill into him, pesky things manners. "I'll carry some vials if you like!" He offered eagerly.

Gaius made a face that was half a smile half a frown.

"Er, perhaps not." Gaius murmured as Merlin tripped over yet another cobblestone. "Here, why don't you carry this for me, instead?" Gaius passed him a small cloth bag that smelt strange.

Merlin immediately opened it to peer inside. Gaius tapped him on the head giving him an unimpressed look. He sheepishly closed the bag and held it carefully as he trotted along after Gaius.

"While your curiosity is commendable, it would be best if you didn't nose around other peoples things without asking." Gaius chided not sounding all that offended.

"What does commendable mean?" Merlin asked.

"Well, it means...admirable, that it is good you have curiosity, praise worthy. However, you need to curb it a little when it comes to people and their possessions."

"Okay. What are the herbs in the bag?"

Gaius raised an eyebrow. Again.

"Didn't I just mention curbing curiosity when it comes to peoples things?" Gaius muttered to himself before answering the question.

#

It was later, after he had finished his rounds with his young tag along, that Gaius decided it was high time for a meal.

The fact that Merlin perked up visibly when he mentioned this had nothing whatsoever to do with the decision.

Gaius set about heating up some soup while Merlin diligently toasted some bread over the fire. Gaius felt his lips twitch slightly at the sight of the young boy sitting there, tongue sticking out between his teeth as he concentrated, carefully turning the skewers holding the bread.

Merlin had listened eagerly when Gaius had explained about the herbs and their various functions but he doubted the lad would recall much of it, he was as flighty as a sparrow, going from one topic to the next in leaps of 'logic' that Gaius couldn't even begin to follow.

But the curiosity and lively enthusiasm was a refreshing change.

Gaius blinked when he saw Merlin no longer at the fireplace but by the book shelf again, leaning sideways to read the titles.

"Merlin," honestly, the boy needed to have at least a modicum of self control – to at least complete the task before going onto something else, before he set the rooms on fire or something similar – "what about the bread?" He prompted.

Merlin glanced at him as though he was the one doing something silly.

"It's fine." Merlin shrugged.

Gaius glanced at the fire the protest dying in his throat.

There, just above the flames were the skewers of bread, hovering in the air turning slowly.

Gaius slowly sunk down onto a chair.

"What incantation did you use? What spell?" Gaius asked reflexively even as his eyes darted to the door to make sure it was closed and that no one was about to burst in.

Merlin frowned.

"I don't know any spells." He admitted.

"Then how do you explain that?" Gaius waved to the fireplace.

"Well, one of the skewers got a bit warm and I dropped it." Merlin answered, clearly thinking he had given a complete and logical answer to a stupid question.

Gaius managed to reclaim the use of his legs and went over to the hovering skewers, picking them up carefully and with just a hint of wariness. He sighed as he put them on the table, on the wooden plates he'd set out.

"Merlin, I know your mother has told you of the importance of keeping your magic hidden." Gaius began. Merlin nodded, shuffling over, shoulders almost hunched up to his ears. Gaius looked at the woe begotten expression and decided not to lecture. This time.

"Well, sit down and eat your soup."

The sorrowful expression was gone in a flash and a beaming smile took its place as Merlin clambered onto the bench.

The bread, Gaius found, was toasted to perfection, a delightfully crisp compliment to the soup.

So he soon forgot (or rather, pushed away) the remaining trepidation. It was rather nice having company for a meal.

Well, nice until he accidently knocked over the soup pot still half full and all would have gone spilling to the floor had Merlin not caught the bowl and soup, eyes momentarily flashing a bright gold.

(Hunith had told him about Merlin's powers, told him that he could float things with an absent thought, that magic came just as instinctively to Merlin as breathing. But it was one thing to hear it and quite another to witness first hand.)

Gaius felt his heart slowly calm. Merlin looked just as rattled as he felt.

"I didn't mean to!" The child exclaimed, before Gaius could lecture on the importance of keeping his magic hidden. "I-It just happens." The boy added miserably.

Gaius sighed and patted the lad gently on the head.

"It's alright, be glad I'm the only one in the room." The 'this time' went unsaid, unacknowledged but whispered in the back of Gaius' mind like a festering poison.

"But Merlin, you need to gain control over it, otherwise someone will find out and it will be _your_ head on the chopping block." Perhaps it was harsh for him to speak so to a young boy but softening the truth would only get all their necks on the line.

Merlin nodded silently, eyes wide with distress.

"But how?" The child asked.

Gaius thought for a while, making up a tea of herbs that would calm them. Heaven knows he needed it and Merlin probably did if he was ever going to get to sleep that night. A sliver of valerian root and camomile went into the water to steep and the scent of brewing tea filled the room.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Gaius pulled out a bundle of cloth, unfolding it to reveal a book.

"Here. This might help." He passed it to the child wondering if he was doing the right thing. It might help the boy control his magic or it might be found and sentence the boy to the noose. He would have to tell Hunith so they could find a good hiding place for it.

Merlin flicked through it eyes widening.

"Are you sure?" Merlin asked, hushed, as he drank in the words sprawled around the pages, eyeing the notations with fascination.

Gaius smiled at the look of wonder.

"Yes." He said with quiet surety.

He gave a muffled 'oof' when the lad leapt over trying to hug him while still holding the book.

###

-'Camomile is often used to treat things like treating hay fever, inflammation, muscle spasm, menstrual disorders, insomnia, ulcers, gastrointestinal disorder.' And used as a calming aid. Valerian root is most often used for sleep disorders and for anxiety problems.

While both have studies proving they work to treat these things always be careful when self medicating (or don't self medicate) and make sure you know exactly what you are doing. The herbs are dangerous when used inappropriately.

This is a fan fiction. I am not a doctor, nor well versed in herbal law. Do not take anything written here as fact and certainly do not try this at home. -


End file.
